


Lucky One

by untilpeace (untilpeace_thestorm)



Series: Are You Happy Now? [1]
Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7006783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untilpeace_thestorm/pseuds/untilpeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many sides to Adam. Blake's getting it, even if he's occasionally slow on the uptake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky One

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place at the end of season 10, but no need to know much about the contestants.

Blake knew that Adam Levine was a more complicated entity than most people figured. 

He was one of the lucky ones, he guessed. One of the few who knew at least a fraction of the real man behind the very public mask. Maybe more than a fraction. But even then — even with how much honesty there was between them, how much he (quietly) admired him, how much he made fun of him — even then, he was pretty sure he hadn't unearthed everything that was _Adam_.

For a rockstar, Adam kept everything pretty close to his chest. At first, Blake had assumed it was some kind of game, or some kind of...self-preservation. Keep out the phonies that inevitably came with having hordes of groupies and stalkers while maintaining your real relationships. Every famous person had to struggle with how to deal with that at some point in their career. But after a few years he realized it was something more deeply ingrained in the tapestry that was Adam Levine.

Adam flitted from one side of his personality to the other with a dizzying ease. He slipped into his roles without blinking most days, if he needed to, and other days he lingered on whatever came easiest. But Blake had worked alongside the native Californian long enough to recognize there were at least a handful of different Adams he could meet every day.

There was preening Adam — or peacock Adam. The guy who draped himself all over furniture backstage in that borderline provocative way that always made Blake stare helplessly until something snapped him out of it. That guy strutted out into the studio, falling to the ground for casual push-ups and poses and glanced over at Blake with a dark and knowing stare, a smirk usually plastered on his face. That one talked to the audience, sometimes engaging them in loud conversations or sometimes making a show of going close enough to imply conspiracy. Always, Blake would note, making sure people were watching.

There was goofy Adam. That one was fun. Blake always indulged Adam's sillier moods if only because they meant they could goof off together. Pissing off Christina was fun. Making Carson laugh was good. Goofy Adam meant they could flirt and tease each other, that they'd make contest and competition out of the show, that sometimes Blake would find Adam sinking into his lap or dancing in front of his face (or sometimes stealing his damn phone). Goofy Adam was often the best Adam, for ratings and for Blake's peace of mind. He made it easy.

There was irritated Adam. He was grumpy. Usually, but not always, hungry. This one didn't have much patience for the audience. Or for bad singers. Or for the chair they were forced to sit in for long, long hours. This Adam he'd learned to recognize fast because he often genuinely pissed him off without trying. Blake's antics (the ones Adam had been a part of maybe a day ago, or sometimes an hour earlier) were suddenly off limits. So instead of provoking Adam, he'd coax him backstage on their breaks — they'd go for a walk through the halls or find a room with a spare guitar or linger over the catering table. Blake found himself occasionally defensive over this Adam. Some days just sucked. He knew that better than most.

There was sensitive Adam. Blake secretly thought this Adam was the one closest to onstage Adam. This Adam _felt_ unabashedly. He couldn't hide his reactions if someone paid him (case in point — the reality TV show he starred in). This Adam was so engrossed in the music, in the artists, in his own head that Blake once thought he'd never understand him. Until the first time they'd locked eyes during an artist's performance. That day, Blake had seen something in Adam he'd never expected from the pretty boy lead singer of Maroon 5. He wasn't so poetic as to call it a soul, exactly, but it was something...vulnerable and honest and electric and all it had done was hook Blake on to wanting to see more of it. To know more of it.

He loved Maroon 5's music now. He'd enjoyed what he'd heard on the radio before, mostly, but once he'd actually met Adam, seen that boy perform with his heart and soul bared for everyone to see, gifting an undeserving world with something unwaveringly pure, he loved it. Maybe it was the musician in him responding to the passion of a fellow artist. Maybe it was something else. Either way, whenever he sensed a more sensitive Adam emerging, he felt strangely protective.

He knew there were even more sides to Adam. Ones less mood-based and more situational. Like how he'd been with Anne (devastated) or how he was with Behati (besotted). How easy he was with the band, like he'd never left high school, or how his other friends coaxed a relaxed and comfortable Adam into being. 

Blake liked to think that the Adam who hung out with him was the same. Relaxed. Comfortable. Himself. There was honesty there. There always had been between them — to a certain point. They talked so easily despite their differences and not just about music. He liked to think that was real affection, when Adam casually mentioned one night, draped and sleepy over Blake's sofa, that he hated the word bromance because he hated cheapening feelings.

That was genuine, right? Blake couldn't ask because that wasn't how they were. 

\------

"Congratulations."

They hugged each other again, this time without the cheering audience and cameras whirling around the almost-speechless Alisan as she tried to get through her victory performance. The end of the show was always chaotic. All of the coaches had got up, the contestants and Carson swarming as had their families. That was it — the 10th season done. Now all that was left was the party.

Adam and Blake had extracted themselves from the crazy after chatting with Laith and Other Adam, slipping into Adam's trailer for a quick drink. Adam planned to change, too, because if they were going straight from here to the party then he wanted to be more comfortable. 

"You almost had her, you know," Adam's eyes had the barest hint of mischief in them as he released the taller man.

"You, me, and Carson know that my carcass would be strung up all over Hollywood if I'd beat her this time," came the drawled reply and a little laughter. "It's safest for everyone it ended up this way."

They took a moment to remember how pissed Christina had been during Blinds this season that Blake kept trying to steal her artists. 

"That was a _fun_ finale," Adam remarked as he backed up a bit and stripped out of his shirt. "Laith's gonna do amazing after all this. Believe me, it was way more fun being on my end of things. Less pressure."

"He's a great musician," Blake agreed, moving to grab a couple cold beers out of the fridge and bringing one over to Adam. "You two sure looked like you were having fun during your performance yesterday."

The front man grinned, taking one. "I never get to play! Paul let me drum and play guitar! _Drum_."

Blake laughed at the genuinely pleased look on his face. "Fix your face, Adam. No one, especially me, wants to see you this happy."

He didn't think it was possible, but Adam's expression got even more thrilled — and mischievous. 

The younger man took a long drink from the bottle before splashing some over his naked torso. The liquid made his body shine and his tattoos a little bolder. Blake made sure to look unamused.

"Now you're gonna be gross and sticky in addition to sweaty and gross at the party," he pointed out.

"It's too hot," came Adam's plaintive reply. " _Blake_."

"What?"

" _Blake_."

"What do you want me to do about it, boy? I can't make the sun go down any faster."

There were a couple seconds missing, Blake was sure of it. Time didn't use to move so fast before Adam crashed into his life. All he knew was that instead of beer, he had an armful of said gross and sticky rock star clinging to him and soaking through his own shirt.

"Hey — Adam!"

A little more maneuvering and scrambling until Blake bumped against the wall of the trailer and Adam's face was suddenly in his own, the mischief and laughter gone. 

Oh. _Oh_.

Blake was never sure which Adam he'd get. It was a crapshoot most days. But he was one of the lucky ones. Sometimes he just had to take what he could get when he could get it.


End file.
